


Breathe

by BansheeLydia



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Multi, Panic Attacks, Polyamory, Stiles Has Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 15:35:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4185270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BansheeLydia/pseuds/BansheeLydia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was still new, this thing between the three of them, but it was good.  It felt like the first good, right thing they’d had in a very long time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> an anon sent me this prompt on tumblr: I would die for some ScottStilesAllison where they have to deal with one of them having panic attacks and coping. Or just sciles? Or scallison? Or Stallison? I just really love all three taking care of each other 
> 
> and I live for Scott/Allison/Stiles taking care of each other, so this happened.
> 
> Trigger warning for Stiles having a panic attack.

It’s not like he wasn’t expecting it to happen.

If Stiles was honest with himself, he’d expected it to happen long before now. He’d come close, the night he kneeled next to Lydia’s bloody body, begging Peter to kill him, not her. He’d come close again, in the basement with a psychotic geriatric going to town on his face while Boyd and Erica were unable to help, to even scream. He’d come close when he’d woken from dreams, nightmares where he wasn’t fast enough, or strong enough, where his fears of just being the weak human came true and he could only stand there, helpless, as Scott, Lydia, Allison, his dad, as all of them, his friends and family and the people he loved, were torn down. Ripped apart. Slaughtered.

Those nights, he stayed up until the sun rose over the horizon, light crawling into the sky and spilling, pale and thin, between the cracks in his blinds. He sat and counted his fingers, over and over again just like he did when he was a kid and he couldn’t tell if his dreams about his mom were real or not. When he couldn’t tell if he was still in that nightmare where he watched her die over and over again. 

But he’d never tipped over that edge. He’d learned to push the anxiety and fear down. He’d taught himself to almost forget about it, to go about his day to day life, to keep pushing and fighting and staying strong. Scott needed him. His dad needed him. There were people relying on him and he needed to be there, needed to keep going. He couldn’t be the weak one.

It was really only a matter of time before all that built up anxiety spilled over. 

The alphas and Jennifer Blake were long gone. The nemeton was active and they were constantly aware, constantly _waiting_ ; things had been peaceful and quiet for a few months, the dust settling after the shitstorm where their parents had nearly been killed, where the alphas had nearly got what they wanted. They were just waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the next threat to turn up and rip apart the quiet peace they’d built around themselves. Derek and Cora were still gone. Isaac didn’t really speak to any of them, trying to piece himself back together after everything. Stiles was still trying to get things back to normal with his dad. And he, Scott and Allison were trying to deal with the effects of their sacrifice to save their parents. 

Stiles didn’t know if the dreams were a manifestation of it. He’d asked Scott, but he hadn’t had any dreams; he just felt constantly on edge, like he was going to lose control any second. He’d asked Allison and she’d gone quiet, finally admitting she kept seeing her mom. It was different for all of them and yet...it had brought them all closer together. 

He’d been half in love with Scott for years and he’d be blind not to be attracted to Allison, but she was his best friend’s ex girlfriend; Off Limits. But their shared sacrifice had bound them together, made them realize that maybe, with all the stuff they faced on a daily basis, with the unknown stretching in front of them, it was _okay_ to have something good. Allison and Scott reconciled first and then it was a gradual thing, an almost natural progression, of Stiles’ involvement. It was still new, this thing between the three of them, but it was _good_. It felt like the first good, right thing they’d had in a very long time.

When everything finally blew up in Stiles’ face, it was over something so _stupid_.

He’d had nightmares. Three consecutive nights of them, barely sleeping before the dreams hit and he stayed up, counting his fingers and trying to chase the echo of Scott’s screams out of his head. He drifted through school in a dazed, sleepless state and it wasn’t any surprise he dropped the ball somewhere.

So when he was called to the front of the class to give an oral presentation in history and realized he had _absolutely nothing_ prepared, it suddenly all hit him all at once.

He stared at rows and rows of blank faces, staring at him expectantly, and curled his fingers into his palms. It felt like they were laughing at him, the silence stretching on and on. He heard the teacher say his name, prompting him to say something, _anything_ , but his mouth felt glued shut, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. His heart pounded, fast and hard, and he felt sweat gather at the nape of his neck. 

“ _Stiles_ ,” Mr Yukimura said, touching his shoulder, and Stiles’ jerked away, almost falling over the desk.

“I can’t -,” he rasped, “I can’t _breathe_.”

Mr Yukimura was right in front of him, trying to calm him, but Stiles couldn’t focus beyond his inability to breathe and the dizziness quickly taking over. His gaze kept sliding away from the teacher’s face as he shook, tapping at his chest, trying to breathe past the waves of fear crashing through him.

He squeezed his eyes shut. He heard a soft laugh from someone in the class and fled, almost slipping as he ran out of the classroom. The corridors were empty, deserted, and he could barely hear the smack of his sneakers against the floor over the pounding in his ears as he just ran, trying to outrun the terror tripping him up.

He turned a corner and crashed into someone. Distantly, he acknowledged the sound of books hitting the floor and wide, startled brown eyes, but he couldn’t – couldn’t focus, couldn’t _breathe_ –

“Stiles?” 

His hands and feet were starting to tingle. He felt his body start to slant and hands took him by the shoulders gently. He let her lead him into the locker room and collapsed down the wall, trying to resist the urge to vomit.

“Stiles,” Allison said, voice soft, calm. “You’re okay. You can get through this.”

He shook his head hard. _I can’t, I can’t_ –

Gentle hands took his and he watched as Allison gently uncurled his thumb. “One,” she said softly, then uncurled his index finger, “Two...” she freed his middle finger, “Three...”  
She carried on, slow and calm, making him count with her until they’d counted all ten. Slowly, his heartbeat calmed and he blinked a few times, looking up at her, focusing on gentle brown eyes.

“You’re okay,” Allison repeated. “Just focus on breathing with me.”

He did, breathing in and out as she did, just gazing at her and concentrating, until finally, the worst of it eased. His muscles went loose and he leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. Frustrated tears clung to his eyelashes.

He felt warmth against his side as Allison sat down next to him, leaning against him slightly; a reassuring weight for him to lean on.

A few long, silent minutes ticked by until Stiles felt he could speak again without throwing up. “I used to get them before,” he mumbled. “After -.”

“Your mom died,” Allison finished, voice gentle, barely disrupting the calm silence of the empty locker room. “I know.”

Stiles looked at her. “How did you know to...?” He held up his hands.

“Scott told me.”

He smiled slightly at that. Of course. That was just typical Scott; quietly caring for Stiles, making sure Allison could help him if he needed her to. Making sure Stiles would be okay, no matter what. Preparing for anything.

“Thanks,” he finally said. “I...it was stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” Allison replied, firmer. 

Stiles didn’t know how to reply to that, so he just repeated, “Thanks.”

Her hand found his, giving it a gentle squeeze, and they sat there quietly for a minute, just listening to each other’s soft breaths and enjoying the peace of each other’s company and support. It wasn’t long before the door opened and Stiles tensed, ready to face whoever had come in, but then there was Scott, wordlessly sitting down on his other side, pressing firm against his side. 

“I heard your heartbeat,” he said quietly and left it at that.

The bell would go soon and they’d have to move, collect Allison’s books from where she dropped them. Stiles would have to go to the office and inform them about what had happened. He’d have to face his dad and tell him he’d had a panic attack. Allison and Scott would have to face the consequences of missing class.

But for now, Stiles leaned his head on Scott’s shoulder and squeezed Allison’s hand, and just breathed.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are always appreciated :)
> 
> Got a prompt? maliaslydiamartin.tumblr.com/ask


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